There will be goblins: The most delightfully weird hike in the Jemez

“Hey!” my husband yelled. “There’s a bunch of Swiss cheese penises!”

I’d already done more climbing and scrambling than I expected, and was ready to head back down.

But how do you not look at Swiss cheese penises?

I dug in my poles and pushed up the steep slope.

***

In fall 2015, my sister gave me the gift that started it all: Stephen Ausherman’s “60 Hikes Within 60 Miles of Albuquerque.”

When I opened it, the first thing I saw was a place called Paliza Canyon Goblin Colony.

Sold.

Upon our arrival there in November, a ginormous tarantula greeted us.

It’s my only hiking encounter with a tarantula. So far.

That day it was around 40 degrees, with a cold wind. We were eager to see the canyon in summer, and when we reached it today, the morning after an hours-long soaking rain, we were not disappointed.

Paliza Canyon is seven miles up a narrow forest road from Ponderosa Winery. The hike is on another old forest road that winds along little Vallecito Creek. Brick-red dragonflies, a good 10 kinds of butterflies and little striped lizards darted across the road. Small electric-blue butterflies swarmed around what appeared to be elk scat. Ponderosa pines swayed in the wind above; thick vines wrapped around the trunks of the ones near the creek.

There are two gorgeous campsites tucked into the pines, right next to the gurgling creek. We didn’t see a soul there or anywhere on this hike, despite the full campground just a couple of miles away.

The road climbed gradually. Rock formations appeared. Then, a mile and a half up, the goblins. Acres of hoodoos, tombstones, fingers point into the sky. Your challenge: navigating the steep canyon for a closer look at them.

Bonus: As you climb, the view of the forested ridges around you just gets better and better.

Indian paintbrush and other wildflowers lit up the base of some of the goblins. Tangles of vegetation grew out of shaded spots in the rock in the big formations.

After a good hour of tramping around the goblins, we hiked further up the road. We passed through a small section of burned trees where new growth of wildflowers and vegetation carpeted the ground. A mullein plant stood as tall as my husband. We rounded a bend and views of mountain ranges and mesas opened before us.

So did a threatening bank of dark-gray clouds. We were running out of road. It was time to head back.

As we neared the creek again, I spotted an even smaller pocket of burned trees.

What kind of fire burns a few trees here and there? I asked my husband.

One that gets rained out, he said. The canyon serves as a natural firebreak too. (The area had been closed for remediation from the Cajete Fire when we tried to hike here three weeks ago.)

I stopped to take a picture of a butterfly on a bush, and thunder boomed in the black sky behind us. I abandoned picture-taking and hustled. Ahead, the sky was brilliant blue. There was no sign or sound of the storm when we reached our car.

As we drove back down through the valley, we admired a soaring ridge full of the same Swiss-cheese holes we’d seen on our hike.

No penises, though.

The goblin colony’s the only place I know of where you can see that.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: The hike’s easy; clambering around in the goblins is not

Trail traffic: none today

Wildlife spotted: bluebird, chipmunk, dragonflies, butterflies, nuthatches, jays, squirrels

Tip: This is a beautiful hike in the summer, but go early in the morning. While some sections are well-shaded, the sun really beats down on that first mile and the ridge.